Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Indonesia and from Lille.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983.
I was there at the first Art of Noise show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Winnipeg and Columbus.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the spring reverb sounds with much patience.
I was there when Captain Beefheart started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Eric B and Rakim to the crunk kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Jeru the Damaja. All the underground hits.
All The Men They Couldn't Hang tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Barbara Tucker record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal grime hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Bobby Hutcherson record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a sitar.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Monks,
Jawbox,
The Seeds,
Faust,
Lebanon Hanover,
Bobby Byrd,
Graham Central Station,
the Slits,
One Last Wish,
Basic Channel,
Eurythmics,
Chris & Cosey,
John Lydon,
Anakelly,
Rufus Thomas,
Roxy Music,
Scion,
Peter & Gordon,
Absolute Body Control,
John Holt,
Juan Atkins,
The Selecter,
Technova,
Electric Prunes,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rod Modell,
The Searchers,
Reuben Wilson,
The Beau Brummels,
Essential Logic,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Delon & Dalcan,
James White and The Blacks,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
the Fania All-Stars,
Camberwell Now,
Pulsallama,
John Coltrane,
Hardrive,
Dark Day,
Spoonie Gee,
Public Enemy,
Freddie Wadling,
Lalann,
Quando Quango,
Sun City Girls,
Newcleus,
Severed Heads,
Bobby Womack,
Jesper Dahlback,
John Foxx,
Neil Young,
Liliput,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
Ultra Naté,
Fort Wilson Riot,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
The Moleskins,
Flamin' Groovies,
Kings Of Tomorrow,
The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice, The Black Dice.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.